“That...might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she told him, in a voice that didn’t sound quite like hers.
“Does that mean you’re willing to give it another shot?”
Her sinuses burned and a smile trembled on her lips. “Yes. I’d love to give it another shot. If...if you mean it.”
He cleared his throat, and his voice still came out husky. “I do.”
The brief discussion about when and where they’d see each other again felt mundane compared to what had come before.
Friday night, they agreed finally. Dinner again. Possibly a movie, depending on what was playing at the four-screen theater in town.
Of course, all she did in the intervening day was get more and more nervous about seeing him again. She wished they could have had lunch that day. Or at least dinner. She hadn’t suggested it, though, and neither had he.
They ended up driving to Mount Vernon, a county over, and eating at an Italian restaurant on the main street that paralleled the Skagit River, then walking the block to the restored Lincoln Theatre with its single screen to see a foreign film that had been recommended to Eve.
Dinner was pleasant, but she thought they were both being so careful with each other, neither said anything important. At the theater, they chose seats on the aisle. He helped with her coat before shrugging out of his own parka.
At least, sitting side by side, their shoulders touched. Making yet more careful conversation, Eve focused on his big hands resting on his thighs. With his long fingers, they could have been a pianist’s hands, or an artist’s. Her heart gave a bump as she wondered what they’d feel like on her. As if reacting to her thought, his right hand flexed, curling into a fist before straightening. She looked up to see he was watching her. Reading her mind?
They stared at each other, Eve caught feeling unguarded. She couldn’t remember ever having such an intense physical reaction to a man.
“Excuse me,” a voice said, and she jerked to see a couple laden with popcorn and drinks waiting to get by to empty seats.
The moment broken, Ben murmured an apology and he and Eve both stood to let them by. Eve straightened her coat on the back of the seat and sat down again, then sneaked a glance at Ben. This time, his expression was wry.
“Guess this isn’t the place to say I like the way you look at me.”
Oh, boy. “Um, probably not,” she managed.
He laughed, lifted his arm and draped it around her. “So, how do you feel about cuddling at the movies?”
Smiling, Eve shifted closer. “Definitely positive.”
His breath warm on her ear, he murmured, “Good.” And then, as the lights dimmed, “Ah. Here we go.”
Now, if only she could concentrate well enough to read the subtitles.
CHAPTER FOUR
“SO WE’RE GOING to rerun this dinner, huh?” Eve teased, as she slid into the booth across from Ben at the diner.
He had hesitated to suggest eating here, but, damn it, there weren’t that many decent choices in town that didn’t have white tablecloths and require more time and effort than he and Eve could spare on a working night. Monday night they’d gone out for pizza and a couple games of pool. Turned out she knew how to wield a cue and had a good eye for trajectory. Her chortle of satisfaction had compensated his male ego after he lost two out of three games. When he’d called her at work Tuesday to ask if they could have dinner again Wednesday, his options were limited.
So he’d crossed his fingers and said, “What about the café?” and she’d agreed, but sounded distracted enough he hadn’t been sure she’d thought it through.
Now he agreed, tongue in cheek, “There’s that saying about getting back in the saddle right away.”
Eve wriggled a little and wrinkled her nose at him. “Now that you mention it, the seats do feel a little like a saddle, and they’re not padded much better, either.”
“The place could do with some updating,” he conceded. “Ah...maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Don’t be silly,” she retorted. “The food’s good, it’s quiet enough to talk and nine times out of ten you can snag the back booth.”
Ben gave a crooked smile. “You noticed, huh?”
“You and Seth,” she said, and bent to study the menu.
Did she have to remind him she’d dated his partner? Then he had an unwelcome thought. Was she a cop groupie?
“You gone out with a cop before?” he asked casually.
“Hmm?” She glanced up. “Oh. No.” An impish grin flashed. “And I was so annoyed at Seth by the time he asked, I couldn’t figure out why I’d agreed.”
Ben relaxed and laid one arm along the padded back. “He said something about that. Admitted he might have been wrong and you were right about that kid, too.”
“Did he?” Humor gave her a tiny dimple in one cheek even when she was suppressing a smile, like now. “Funny thing, he never told me that.”
Ben couldn’t help grinning. “What man likes to admit he’s wrong?”
Her gaze became more searching. “You don’t, either?”
“Not my favorite thing to do.” For some reason, he flashed to his divorce. Was that why he couldn’t let go? Because admitting he’d been wrong really meant admitting he and Nicole shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place, and he wasn’t willing to do that?
He flicked the thought away. “Here comes our waitress. You made up your mind?”
Eve closed the menu. “I’m going to try again with the same meal.”
“Since you didn’t get to eat it last time,” he said slowly.
“Since I was an idiot.” She smiled at the middle-aged waitress and gave her order. Ben did the same.
When they were alone again, he asked about her day. It sounded a lot like his, the way she described it. Apparently reports figured as largely in her job as they did in his. That and driving from one end of the county to the other, too often finding the person he’d gone to talk to had forgotten he was coming or decided to dodge him. He mentioned a couple of obscure back roads, and she knew them both, laughingly telling him one was a speed trap and she was too smart for it.
“Yeah, that dip makes a good place to tuck a patrol car out of sight, plus teenagers love to build up speed and try for some air there.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me you don’t speed.”
“I don’t speed,” she said obediently. Rolled her eyes and added, “Anymore.”
“There’ve been a couple of ugly accidents on that same road in just the past year or so.”
“I know. And really I don’t. I was as stupid as any other teenager, but I’ve outgrown that kind of defiance.”
Their food came and they kept talking, sharing more tidbits from their jobs, likes and dislikes, a book he’d recently read, foods they detested, the concept of diving in the cold waters around the San Juan Islands, something he’d done a few weeks back with friends.
“In the middle of the winter?”
Laughing at her horror, he said, “You don’t get cold when you’re wearing a wet suit. The only kinda miserable moment is when you have to peel it off on deck.”
“Ugh,” was her conclusion. “Now, snorkeling in the Caribbean I could go for.”
He’d done that, too—on his honeymoon. He figured it was just as well not to say so.
And, wouldn’t you know, that was when his phone buzzed and he glanced to see he had a text from Nicole asking him to call when he had a minute. That sounded tentative for her, which had him on edge. Was something wrong? She’d have said if it was an emergency, he told himself, and put his phone away without comment. Eve’s gaze had followed it, though, and her expression was enigmatic.
For something to say, he asked her whether anything had come of the grumpy neighbor’s complaints about th
e Kekoa boy.
“Unfortunately, there’s been another incident,” Eve said, expression perturbed. “The foster dad called today. Mr. Rowe’s car was keyed. Apparently he usually parks in the garage, but he’d intended to go out later, so... Whoever did it was smart enough to stop with one side—the side Mr. Rowe couldn’t see from his front window.”
“Calculated.”
“What crossed my mind was malice aforethought.”
“The definition of first degree.”
She shivered. “It happened about when the boys got home after school. Gavin drove—he has his own car—and Joel took the school bus.”
“Not a real friendly relationship there,” Ben mused.
“No. Not outwardly hostile, either, but—” She chose not to finish.
“The neighbor call the police?”
“Yes.” Eve looked even unhappier. “Officer Pruitt again. He confronted Joel instead of making any effort to knock on doors and find out whether anybody else had seen it happen.”
As far as Ben knew, Ed Pruitt was a competent police officer. Either he wasn’t ambitious, had scored poorly on the tests that led to advancement or liked being first responder. Whatever the reason, he had stayed in uniform through his career and had just passed his twenty-fifth year on the job.
“You sure he didn’t?” Ben asked. “Or is that what the boy told you?”
“Well...” She frowned at him. “You’re right. Pruitt is leaning hard on Joel for no other reason than because Mr. Rowe doesn’t like him, though.”
“Cops do get tunnel vision sometimes, just like anyone else,” Ben said mildly.
“Are you implying I have, too?”
He didn’t think she’d appreciate being told she looked cute when she bristled.
“Nope. Just saying we’re not perfect, hard as we try.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “Well, I might have achieved that exalted state, but...”
Eve’s laugh erased her wariness. “Right. A perfect detective would have arrested the guys who hit that jewelry store, wouldn’t he have?”
His smile turned into a grimace. “That’s a low blow.”
She laughed again. He liked the sound, a merry ripple that was almost a giggle.
He picked up the dessert menu, tucked behind the catsup and salt and pepper shakers. “Pie?” he asked, even though he also felt an itch to call Nic and find out what was up. He could make an excuse and go to the john....
“I couldn’t.” Eve looked down at her empty plate ruefully. “I missed lunch, so I was starved, but I still don’t know how I stuffed all that in.”
He’d kind of wondered that himself, but he’d noticed that Eve rarely completely relaxed. She fidgeted, she tapped her foot, she paid attention to everything going on around her. Energy hummed through her. He’d be willing to bet she burned more calories than average for her size and weight.
He’d also really like to find out how it felt to go to bed with a woman whose engine never idled. He doubted she’d be passive. The thought was enough to make him shift a little uncomfortably.
She noticed, but only said, “I’d love a cup of coffee, though. I’ll watch you eat. And maybe steal a bite or two, depending on what you order.”
Damn it, Nicole could wait.
Ben went for cherry pie a la mode, and she stole more than a couple of bites. Sharing with her was fun, and it gave him an excuse to prolong the evening. Since they’d met here, like last time, and Eve would be driving herself home, her inviting him in wasn’t going to happen. A good-night kiss would have to be hasty, given that it was raining, weather that was more common than not in western Washington at this time of year.
While they waited for the waitress to return with change, Ben braced himself for Eve to take offense, but had to say, “This is my weekend with Rachel.” That sounded kind of bald, so he added, “If you want to think about Sunday night after she’s gone...”
If her expression changed, he couldn’t tell. “Oh, I usually have Sunday dinner with Mom and Dad.” Her tone was pleasant. “Do you have any special plans?”
“Maybe a movie Saturday.” Rachel liked to bake, too, so he’d bought some shaped cookie cutters and sprinkles and what have you so they could have some fun with sugar cookies. He was a little embarrassed to admit that. Plus...damn it, he couldn’t help picturing Eve with them, that rippling laugh delighting Rachel as much as it did him.
But letting her get to know Rachel better implied something he didn’t intend. He didn’t want his daughter to become attached to one after another of the women in his life.
As Eve walked out of the café ahead of him, he tried to decide if she’d understood the signal he’d sent by not suggesting she join him and Rachel this weekend, or whether she just thought he was being cautious about jumping in too quickly.
If he were smart, he’d come right out and say, “I’m not looking for anything long-term,” but he couldn’t seem to make himself do that, and he knew why: he wanted Eve, and he’d never have her if he was that blunt.
What if he hurt her, a woman who’d been hurt by too many people?
The worry made shame curl in his belly.
He kissed her good-night anyway, even though cold rain ran down his neck while he was doing it.
But he dialed Nic’s number even as he walked to his own car.
* * *
“YOU THINK THEIR haul is stashed under one of their beds?” Seth asked, frustration adding an edge to his tone.
Frustration Ben shared. Neither of them knew where to go next with this, and new crimes were pulling them away. The amount of time they could give to investigating the jewelry store heist was diminishing.
“Why not?” he said. “They must know we’re not even close to getting a warrant.”
The frustration still simmering, he ran a background search on a guy he liked for a more conventional holdup at a corner grocery store and gas station. The perpetrator had kept his head down and his face shielded by a hoodie, but watching the footage from the surveillance camera, Ben kept thinking, I’ve seen this guy before. His stature, the way he moved, the dart of his hand as he snatched the money... The name had come to Ben in the middle of the night, a lightbulb bursting on.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured now, when he saw that Henry James Whitmore—otherwise known as Whit—had been picked up a couple more times since Ben had last collared him. In fact, Whit had been released from a six-month lockup three weeks ago.
Ben shook his head. Some people never learned.
His phone rang and he reached for it absently. The number looked familiar, but didn’t belong to anyone he knew well.
“Detective Kemper, this is Julie Silveira from Child Protective Services. I heard from Michelle Baker.”
“Did you?” he said softly. Something in his voice had Seth swiveling his chair to look at him. “Thank you for calling.”
A minute later, he hung up, his grin triumphant. “Ken Hardison’s girlfriend just surfaced. She says she’ll talk to us.”
Seth was already rising to his feet. “Now?”
“Sounds like. I have an address.”
She’d been hiding out at a friend’s house in Everett, an hour’s drive away.
Michelle Baker turned out to be painfully thin, with lanky, dull hair and the physical mannerisms of someone who had become conditioned to try to appear deferential—or maybe she was going for invisible, if only subconsciously.
“He always said he’d never let me go,” she said after she’d looked nervously up and down the street before letting them in the front door of the run-down place a few blocks from the community college. “I’d have liked to stay with my sister, but—” her shrug had a defeated quality “—he’s been knocking on her door every day or two since I took off. I told her to be careful.”
H
e asked about her child, and Michelle said she was napping. “He never hit Courtney,” she said, “but that last time, she saw what he did to me and I just didn’t know what to tell her.”
They refused coffee and talked briefly about measures she could take to protect herself, but Ben could tell she wasn’t convinced, and he couldn’t blame her. Hardison’s history suggested he was just the kind of guy to be enraged by a restraining order.
She looked from Seth to Ben, her confusion apparent. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? ’Cause I never got two detectives before when I complained.”
“No. I’m sorry.” Ben cleared his throat. She seemed more comfortable talking to him than to Seth, which wasn’t unusual. Seth’s rougher face and bulkier build were intimidating to a certain kind of witness. “We’re not usually involved in domestic violence calls.” Until they escalated into homicide, of course, but he wasn’t about to say that. He explained that Ken’s name had come up in the course of their investigation into a recent robbery, and they were hoping she’d be willing to tell them if she’d heard him making plans.
“Um... I heard some stuff.” She ducked her head, hiding her face behind her hair. “I shoulda told somebody,” she said softly. “I felt bad when I saw about it on TV. I mean, them hurting that guy.” She looked up. “He didn’t die, did he?”
“Why don’t you tell us what you heard before I answer any questions,” Ben said gently.
“That jewelry store,” she said, looking surprised. “That’s what you’re here about, isn’t it?”
He smiled at her. “Yes, it is.”
After agreeing to be recorded, she began, “See, he was real mad about getting fired.”
At the end, Ben asked if she’d be willing to testify in court as to what she’d heard. When she hesitated, he told her honestly he couldn’t guarantee Hardison would be convicted, but if he was, he’d be put away for a good, long time given how brutal the assault had been on the store owner and how serious his injuries.
Her face firmed and she squared her shoulders. “I’ll do that. After he hurt me so many times, he don’t deserve any loyalty from me.”
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